


Break the Rules

by turtle_wexler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Kittens, Mutual Pining, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/pseuds/turtle_wexler
Summary: When they entered into their Ministry-mandated marriage, Severus and Hermione set firm rules. A trip to get Hermione a new kitten for Christmas has them rethinking everything.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 96
Kudos: 489
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Gift Exchange





	Break the Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGirlWhoLookedUp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoLookedUp/gifts).



> The snowstorm in this story didn't really happen, but I refuse to let facts ruin Christmas! Also, there is a Marriage Law in this fic, and I shan't be explaining why/how, because it's Christmas! Thank you to my wonderful alpha for all of her cheerleading and support. 💖
> 
> The prompt provided for the fic was this: Hermione's been moping about since Crookshanks died and Severus decides to get her a new pet for Christmas. Finding the right kitten turns into an unexpected adventure.

**The Rules**

1\. Work together to get this bloody stupid law repealed.

2\. Separate bedrooms.

3\. Outside relationships are permitted, but don't be a dunderhead about it. Keep it out of the papers. Use protection.

4\. No conversation before coffee.

5\. If the law is not repealed before the two year mark, any children will be conceived with the aid of Muggle science.

6\. The marriage will not be consummated.

7\. No, Hermione, I will not move the rule about coffee down the list. Its placement reflects its importance.

8\. All familiars are banned from the potions lab and Severus's bedroom. Wards will be added as needed.

9\. Friends must Floo-Call before they visit.

10\. Wards against Potter and various Weasleys are not out of the question.

11\. Wards against various Malfoys are also a possibility.

12\. For the duration of the marriage, our libraries will be combined. Under no circumstances are pages to be dogeared.

13\. Severus, if we are to have a peaceful marriage, you cannot go around implying I might dogear pages of books.

14\. On the happy day we are allowed to divorce, both spouses will retain their original possessions.

* * *

On his seventy-fifth day of marriage, Severus woke to the sound of sobbing through the wall. He sighed. This had to stop.

Swinging his legs out of bed, he threw his thick, grey dressing gown on as quickly as possible. It had been purchased by his wife on their sixty-third day of marriage, when she'd noticed how much he felt the cold in their draughty cottage. Before everything had gone to shit.

Well, it hadn't exactly been all sunshine and rainbows before. Neither of them had wanted this marriage, but at least Hermione had not spent the first few months attempting to cry an _Alice in Wonderland_ style sea of tears.

Severus slipped out of his room and crept as silently as he could over the creaky hall floorboards to the bathroom. This place still felt temporary—like a holiday cottage. Not like home.

Hermione's things were all crowded together with his on the edge of the tub. Unfamiliar, Muggle bottles with words like _sulphate free_ and _no silicones._ Turning on the weak electric shower, he thought about her hair on their wedding day—unbound and wild. She'd worn her teaching robes, but so had he. Severus soaped his body and hair absentmindedly. Hermione had given him the strangest smile when they'd been pronounced bonded for life. Like they were in this thing together. The Granger-Snapes versus the world—versus this absurd marriage law.

Climbing out of the tub, he cracked the frost-patterned window open and shivered as the steam blew out and the cold blew in. Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the surrounding countryside in white. If this kept up for the next week, they might actually have a white Christmas. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

Dried and dressed, he found Hermione in the kitchen, swallowed by a giant jumper that could only have come from Molly. She cradled a mug full of tea, her red-rimmed eyes focused on the cat basket in the corner. The empty cat basket.

This had to stop.

* * *

"Severus?" Hermione said, sitting up taller in the passenger seat of the car. "You missed the turning."

"We are not going to the Potters' house."

"Oh. Where are we going, then?"

"To retrieve your Christmas present."

She exhaled in that huffy way she always did when he complained about cat hair being all over everything. "I thought we said we weren't getting each other anything," she said.

"Did we, indeed? Then what is that wrapped gift you've hidden in the shed?"

He didn't look away from the icy, treacherous stretch of road, but he didn't have to. He knew she narrowed her eyes.

"Who said that was for you?" she asked. "There's no tag on it."

"Why would you hide a gift outside unless it was for me? Do your friends snoop in the hall cupboard? Hmm. On second thought, I wouldn't put it past them."

She harrumphed.

The clerk at Magical Menagerie had been quite helpful, in the end. The fact that Severus had taught him likely had something to do with it. A bit of old-fashioned professorial glowering, and the source of Hermione's late familiar had been found. In a few hours, Hermione would have one of Crookshanks' great-great-nieces or nephews to console her. And Severus would, he hoped, once again have a shaky kind of peace in the cottage.

The farther North they travelled, the worse the weather got. Snow came down so fast and thick, Severus could barely see the taillights of the lorry right in front of them. Traffic slowed to a crawl, tyres slipping and sliding around, until, up ahead of them, a car skidded into oncoming traffic.

No one was hurt—how could they have been when travelling at a speed that would make a snail impatient?—but it still frayed Severus's nerves.

"I think we should stop for the night," Hermione said. "Why are we driving, anyway? In weather like this, we should have Apparated."

Severus had been advised by the Magical Menagerie shop assistant to not attempt Apparation or Floo travel with a cat until the creature was comfortable with him. Or, rather, until it was comfortable with Hermione. It was going to be her pet. No need for it to be comfortable with him.

"The nature of your gift required a car," he said. "But yes, I agree. We should find a hotel."

* * *

Hermione stared at the key card in Severus's hand. One room. One _bed_.

"It'll be fine," she said, trying to sound casual, as if she wasn't bothered in the slightest. "It's not a big deal. We're married, right?"

He shot her a dubious look that she couldn't disagree with. They were married in name, perhaps, but they'd slept in separate beds every single night. It was written into their rules, after all.

As Severus battled with the key card reader, Hermione's thoughts drifted back to their wedding night. He'd given her an awkward nod as they'd gone to their separate bedrooms in the cottage. So many afternoons spent chatting to him at work, and she hadn't been able to think of a word to say that evening.

Finally, the light turned green and the doorknob turned, allowing them into the room. It had truly hideous carpet: a busy striped pattern that continued up onto the wallpaper. If lying next to Severus didn't keep her awake, the surroundings would.

"Why don't you go ahead and get settled, and I'll pop out to get us something to eat?" she said. "I saw an M&S Foodhall around the corner."

Severus gave a tight nod. "Very well."

Hermione used the short, slippery walk to try to centre herself. In spite of the weather, crowds of people flowed in and out of shops on the high street. Only an apocalypse was likely to stop late Christmas shoppers. And even then…

What on earth could Severus have planned for her? Something so big it couldn't be carried side-along. Furniture of some sort? She had mentioned wanting a new desk.

Welcome heat wrapped around her as she stepped inside M&S and grabbed a basket. Passing by tins of pet food on a shelf made a lump lodge itself in her throat. Gods, she missed Crooks. Maybe she would adopt another cat in the new year. It wouldn't replace dear, grumpy old Crookshanks, of course, but it would be a comfort.

Hermione's stomach rumbled. They hadn't eaten anything since they'd left the cottage. She'd been deep in a research hole around lunchtime. She might not have emerged for anything but cups of tea that went cold if Severus hadn't pulled her away from her books and presented her with hearty soup and a sandwich. He was always doing that sort of thing—making sure she took care of herself when she got distracted and busy. She did the same for him when he was all wrapped up in brewing. An ideal partnership… apart from the fact that they weren't actual partners.

She gave herself a shake. There was nothing to be done about that. After filling the basket with whatever took her fancy and paying at an unruly self-checkout till, she made the chilly walk back to the hotel. And then she was with Severus in the room again. Alone.

"I got us quite the feast," she said, unpacking the crinkly carrier bag onto the little table by the window. Some fancy crisps that claimed to taste of pigs in blankets, "Christmas dinner" sandwiches, mince pies, and G&Ts in a can.

"It's like a picnic," she said, opening the crisps.

"Indeed. Complete with scenic surroundings."

The way he sneered at the carpet and wallpaper reminded Hermione of the look he'd given Sybill when she'd claimed to have seen their marriage coming years before, in a vision. Hermione laughed.

"So," she said once she had polished off her second mince pie. "This gift…"

He raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"What _is_ it? Not knowing is killing me."

"Is it? Shame. I will spend an appropriate amount of time mourning you before I remarry."

She snorted. "Okay, fine. But keep a picture of me up in the cottage so I can glare at your new wife."

"Yes, dear."

He'd used that same dry tone the day they'd agreed to marry. She'd marched into the staffroom at Hogwarts and said, "This bloody law isn't going away, and I'd rather marry a friend."

Severus hadn't looked up from his cup of tea. "I believe Potter is already taken."

She'd muttered something about having better sense than to marry Harry, sparking a laugh from Severus. He'd eventually said yes, provided they had rules. Guidelines. They would go about this in their own way, no matter what the Ministry said. They would remain friends, nothing more.

Some days she itched to revisit those rules, but Severus had seemed rather final about all of it when they'd drafted them.

One G&T, canned or otherwise, wasn't enough to make Hermione tipsy, but it did make her feel a bit looser and warmer. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair.

"I just realised," she said. "I'll have to transfigure my clothes into pyjamas."

Severus shook his head. "I keep a bag with several changes of clothing in the boot of the car. You may borrow something."

Hermione picked at one of the mince pies. Some things hadn't changed since the war, when he'd presumably started keeping a packed bag. He still wasn't free. She was going to dismantle this law if it was the last thing she did.

Slipping into one of his shirts was the most married she had ever felt. Even though it had been sitting in a bag for goodness knew how long, it still smelt like him—like the fresh, green herbs he grew in their conservatory for brewing, like the white bar soap that sat in the little silver dish in their bathroom.

Steadying herself, Hermione opened the bathroom door. This was fine. Everything was fine.

She found Severus bent over the bed, turning down the duvet. After staring at her for a beat, he slid between the sheets and tugged the duvet up to his chin.

The bed looked narrower that it had before she'd gone to change. Was that really a double? Severus didn't turn his head as she climbed in next to him, but she thought she saw his eyes move. Turning the lamp off, she settled back onto the too-squishy pillows.

"Night," she said.

"Goodnight."

In the dark, so close she could feel his body heat, his voice rumbled through her. Hermione closed her eyes.

One time, after they had morphed from former teacher and pupil to colleagues and sort-of-friends, she had dozed off when they'd been reading together in his sitting room late at night. When he'd touched her shoulder to wake her, there had been a moment. Their faces had been close, and the fire and the dim lighting had made everything feel intimate. She'd glanced down at his lips, her gaze lingering a few seconds too long.

Maybe it had only felt like a moment to her. To him, it had been an ordinary Wednesday, and he'd wanted her to leave so he could get to sleep. He would never see her that way.

Asking him to marry her had been the most idiotic decision she'd ever made.

* * *

Severus woke up under attack.

Hermione's hair was _everywhere_ : in his face, in his mouth, tickling his nose. She didn't stir from her position draped across his chest as he tried to free himself from her curls.

Once he was able to breathe without inhaling hair, it was… not an unpleasant way to start his morning. She took up an impressive amount of space, sprawled out as she was, but she was soft and warm and she looked happy. He missed seeing her look happy—that light that had practically radiated from her when she'd become the Charms professor. He missed the way she used to laugh at his snark during meals in the Great Hall. They had been better friends before they married.

Not that it was anything like an actual marriage. Sleeping in separate rooms, both free to date as they liked. Neither of them had taken advantage of that second part. Yet. Severus did not look forward to the day Hermione decided to take a paramour. Her taste in partners had always been decidedly suspect. If she reconciled with Ronald Weasley, Severus could not be held responsible for his actions.

Severus couldn't imagine meeting a witch whom he wished to court. Not now.

Hermione shifted in her sleep, mumbling as if attempting to reply to his thoughts. If she actually heard him use the word "court," she would laugh, wrinkling her nose in that way she always did when he was being too stuffy and proper.

"Mmph." She grumbled. Opening her eyes, she froze.

Well. There was no pretending Severus hadn't left his arm curled around her. He met her gaze as she lifted her head. For a few silent, tense moments, they stared at each other. With her hand splayed over his chest, she had to be able to feel the way his heartbeat raced. A whole fantasy played out in those breathless seconds: Hermione leaning in, kissing him, letting him run his hands over her body.

It was not the first time he'd let his mind wander down that particular path. Nowhere near the first time.

What actually happened was rather different than his delusional mental image. Gasping, Hermione covered her mouth and leapt out of bed. She scurried off to the bathroom, muttering something about morning breath.

Agreeing to marry her had been the most idiotic decision he'd ever made.

Turning on the TV, Severus checked the weather. The roads were still abysmal, but no more snow was forecast, and much of what had fallen was due to melt overnight.

"Why don't we stay another night?" Hermione asked when she returned from the bathroom, minty fresh. "We've come this far, and I don't have any other plans. Do you? There's a Christmas market in the city centre. We might as well make the most of it."

"I suppose," he said. "I'll see if any other rooms have become vacant."

She shrugged. "Why waste the money? You don't snore, so I'm happy to share."

Hmm.

During Hermione's first year of teaching at Hogwarts, a copy of a book he'd wanted but had been unable to find had showed up at the foot of his bed on Christmas morning. The gift tag had been unsigned, but Hermione's expression at breakfast had given her away in an instant. She'd looked exactly as she did now: avoiding his gaze, pretending to study an ink-smudged cuticle.

Interesting.

* * *

Going to the Christmas market with Severus felt like breaking the rules. It was so… _coupley_. Cushioned against the winter weather by a Warming Charm, Hermione shuffled closer to her husband as they weaved through the crowd. They purchased hot drinks (mulled wine for him, hot chocolate for her) and browsed stalls full of Christmas ornaments for a tree they didn't have.

"Ooh, look," Hermione said. "Let's go on the helter skelter."

"Absolutely not."

"Hmm, fine. What about ice skating?"

He glowered at her from over the rim of his cup. "What about it?"

"Have you ever been?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, then, we'd better not. It won't be very much fun if you fall."

Severus barked out the loudest laugh she'd heard from him in quite some time. "You don't think that is going to make me insist that we give it a go, do you? What do you take me for? A Gryffindor?"

"Absolutely not."

Grinning, she grabbed his arm and steered him closer to the ice rink. As they neared the edge of the market, a woman in a long red cloak ducked into a nearby alley and tapped the centre of a door with her walking stick. It swung open, revealing a second market square.

"Ooh," Hermione said. "There's a magical part of this market. I think I read about it once. Let's go have a look."

This, at least, Severus consented to. Holding her breath in anticipation, Hermione tapped her wand against the centre of the door. There were no electric rides, no blaring pop versions of Christmas carols in this market. High above the stalls, magically floating bobsleighs zoomed around in a dizzying loop.

"Have you ever been on a magical roller coaster?" he asked.

"No. Is it better or worse than flying on a broom?"

"That rather depends on what metric you're using."

"I am using the _Terrifies Hermione Scale_."

"Ah." He smirked. "I suppose we cannot know for certain until you try it."

"Let me get this straight," she said. "You refuse to go on the helter skelter or go ice skating—both reasonably safe, _grounded_ activities, but you jump at the chance to go flying wildly through the air on those things?"

"I enjoy flying."

Hermione still did not, in spite of the best efforts of various friends. Standing to one side of the queue, they watched a group of friends pile into one of the bobsleighs. The seats were arranged such that they had to sit between each others' legs, all in a row.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. The bobsleighs _were_ more enclosed than a broom or riding on a Thestral. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"All right," she said. "Let's see where it ranks on the scale."

The queue was long enough to give Hermione ample time to run through all of the worst-case scenarios as they waited. When she finally sat down in the bobsleigh, Severus's thighs bracketing her hips, she felt shaky and off-balance.

There was no mechanical noise as they climbed into the air, as there had been on the few Muggle roller coasters she'd ridden, only the excited murmurs from other bobsleighs. Hermione held it together quite well until the first bend after they climbed the invisible hill. When the bobsleigh turned on its side to bank around the corner, she screamed and grabbed Severus's shins.

"If we fall out of this bloody thing," she said as the bobsleigh turned fully upright again, "you'll use your fancy broomless flight skills and catch me, right?"

"I hardly think catching you will be necessary, with the death grip you currently have on me."

Another corner. Hermione moved her alleged death grip higher, where his hands rested on his knees. Severus's thumb rubbed against her palm. The force of them whooshing down a hill pushed her back against him.

"But yes," he said, mouth close to her ear, "I will catch you. Finding a new wife would be tedious."

Hermione tried to laugh, but another sharp corner turned it into a scream. Finally— _finally_ —they came to a stop next to the ride attendant. She wanted to stay there, nestled against Severus, and get her bearings, but the queue was packed and the attendant looked impatient. On shaky legs, she walked away from the ride on blessed, wonderful, solid ground.

"Well?" Severus asked. "Where did it rank on your scale?"

"Not as scary as a broom, but scarier than asking you to marry me." Glancing up at him, she laughed at the sneer on his face. "You're actually insulted by the fact that you weren't scarier, aren't you?"

He sniffed. "Absolutely not."

After the closeness of the bobsleigh, even the scant distance between them felt too vast. Hermione could still feel the phantom touch of his thumb rubbing over her palm, making something bright and dangerous thunder in her chest. Because it wasn't as terrifying as careening through the air in a magically powered tin can, she linked her arm together with his.

Severus didn't pull away.

* * *

Hermione woke up as cosy as she'd been that morning. The TV was still on, its flickering screen the only light in the room. The last thing she remembered was settling down on the bed in her borrowed pyjama shirt to watch a film with Severus—that action film that Harry and Ron always insisted was a Christmas film because it was set on the 24th of December. Once again, she was using Severus as a pillow. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her a in a half-embrace.

"You really have no concept of personal space when you sleep, do you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and carefree.

Severus chest moved under her as he chuckled. "I think you'll find you are the one who goes around draping yourself over unsuspecting people."

"Hmm. Perhaps we should have written something about it into the rules."

"I hardly think that's necessary."

"Why?" Hermione forced herself to lift her head and look at his face, as if she had the slightest chance of reading his expression. "Because we aren't likely to share a bed again?" she whispered. "Or because you don't mind me draping myself over you?"

His face remained blank and inscrutable. "What do you think?"

Something about the way he dodged the question by asking a question in return made something like hope well up inside her.

"I think… Severus?"

"Yes?"

"I want to break the rules."

He made no reply. No snarky comment about how she always broke the rules that didn't suit her, no outright refusal, but Hermione thought he stopped breathing. That was encouraging. She leaned in slowly, giving him time to back away. Her lips brushed his—barely there, testing the waters. When his mouth moved against hers, adding pressure, kissing her back, it was as if a something that had been pulled painfully tight within her finally released.

He tasted sweet—of the mulled wine he'd had earlier. Heavy warmth settled low in her belly as he deepened the kiss, his hands pressing against the small of her back, pulling her in closer. She had wanted this for so long—wanted _him_ for so long—that she couldn't quite believe it wasn't the best sort of dream. Surely _Severus Snape_ , her husband, wasn't slipping a hand beneath her top. He wasn't letting her straddle his lap. He wasn't whispering her name and making it sound like a plea.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Hermione studied his half-lidded eyes.

"Just so we're clear, before we go any further," she said, "I still don't want to be married."

He laughed, and it was that familiar, rich sound that somehow convinced her that it wasn't all a dream. "Fortunate, as I was not intending to propose," he said.

"You can't very well propose to someone who is already your wife." Pausing, she kissed him again, because she could. "You could date her, though. If you want."

"Hmm." He dragged his lips along her neck. "Yes. I want."

In her many fantasies about being with Severus, she had never come close to the reality. Not once had she predicted the way his hands trembled ever-so-slightly as he helped her shrug out of her top. Everything was brand new. The slow slide of his fingers between her legs. A constellation of freckles on his chest that was bisected by a pale, raised scar. His deep voice moaning her name, telling her how good she felt as she sank down on him. The rhythmic creaking of the bed. His fingers digging into her hips. The way his gaze held hers.

Their rules lay in shreds, and Hermione never, ever wanted to go back.

* * *

Severus pulled the car to a stop in a gravel carpark next to a snow-dusted tower. Finally. A large sign next to the dormant catnip garden left little room for bluffing about the nature of his gift for Hermione.

_Kitten Tower_

_Half-Kneazle Sanctuary_

"Severus?" she whispered.

He cleared his throat. "Several of Crookshanks' relations are available for adoption here. Or so the shop assistant at Magical Menagerie led me to believe."

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Damn it. This gift was supposed to _stop_ her constant crying. Maybe he should have bought her a nice box of chocolates instead.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Hermione launched herself across the centre console and pressed her lips to his.

"Wonderful, wonderful man," she said, sniffling. She was dishevelled and tear-stained and beautiful.

Upon entering the tower, Hermione's entire face lit up. The space was lined with cat towers and scratching posts. A few cats dozed together on a bed caught in a sunbeam, while a couple of blurs of ginger fur chased each other around a maze of cardboard boxes.

If this place had a library, Hermione would no doubt suggest they move in.

The witch Severus had spoken to via the Floo greeted them and led Hermione away to get acquainted with various occupants of the tower, leaving Severus with a stack of paperwork. As he sat down at a table to get started, an older, bandy-legged ginger cat bumped her squashed face against his shin.

Severus gave the cat his best _go away_ glare. She responded by hopping into his lap. Typical. Crookshanks had always reacted the same way whenever Severus had work to do. An empty lap had been an affront to Crookshanks' sensibilities.

Glancing up to make sure Hermione was occupied (she was, in fact, being aggressively snuggled by a kitten), Severus stroked a hand over the cat's soft head. She purred so enthusiastically, the loud rumble drew Hermione's attention.

" _Oh_ ," Hermione breathed.

That one syllable said more than enough. Severus was doomed. Sighing, he amended the paperwork to say that they wished to adopt two Half-Kneazles, rather than one. The occupant of his lap yawned and kneaded his belly with her paws.

The cottage had plenty of space, after all. There was a large spare bedroom that they could fill with cat towers and toys. The cats could even have Severus's old bed, if they wished. He no longer needed it. He would be sharing with Hermione.

* * *

**The New Rules**

1\. Work together to get this bloody stupid law repealed.

2\. Always share a bed, unless one of us is out of town.

3\. Strict limit of four familiars at any one time.

4\. Familiars have free run of the cottage, barring the potions lab.

5\. No conversation before coffee.

6\. Friends must Floo-Call before they visit.

7\. Wards against various Potters, Weasleys, and Malfoys are still very much on the table.

8\. The rules can be discussed and changed whenever we please.

9\. Except the thing we had before about not dogearing pages. That is non-negotiable.

10\. And the coffee, Hermione.

11\. Yes, dear. And the coffee.


End file.
